


Over the Years

by damerey_knows



Series: Forever is a Long Time... [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Immortals, Slow Burn, tags will probably change as this goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17864003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damerey_knows/pseuds/damerey_knows
Summary: Poe has known for years what they are, has been waiting to meet her and learn who she is in this lifetime, but a shadow hangs over them, both in the past and the present...





	1. Museums and Memories

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, here it is! Poe's POV for [Painted History](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181438/chapters/37810928)
> 
> For anyone who hasn't read Painted History this might not make much sense, as this is a companion piece to events already set up or teased in the first fic. I recommend that you read it first and then come back to this one :)

Poe walked up the steps of the Art Institute of Chicago, past the enormous green lions outside. He’d come here almost every night since the painting had been moved. He laughed quietly as he remembered the day he’d sold his first painting; a portrait of Raisa sitting in their little garden, surrounded by the purple and white irises she loved to tend to so much. It had been almost two years after he’d met Raisa in a market in Marseilles, and about a month into their marriage, when he’d sold the painting. That painting was still in his apartment, hanging on the wall in his office. He’d bought it back from the collector years ago. There were others still out there, four to be exact, all residing in various art museums around the world.

This painting though. This one he’d lost track of after he’d sold it originally. Over the years it had bounced from collector to collector until one day he’d found the most recent owner of the painting. After some clever haggling and many lengthy discussions that collector had agreed to donate the painting to the museum in his will.

Poe shook his head. The tiny, wizened old man had been insistent that the painting deserved to be seen. It had been in a protective vault when Poe had tracked it down, and wasn’t being seen by anyone, the man claiming that it was being restored. Poe had finally agreed to let it hang in the museum. The little man had been adamant that it wasn’t the time for him to part with it, he’d talked in circles and riddles constantly, never giving Poe a straight answer.

Poe walked up the grand steps behind the ticket counter, making his way up to the impressionist wing. The museum was fairly quiet tonight. There was only an hour or so left before the museum closed.

He walked through the winding halls, his feet already having memorized the path to his painting. He reflected on how he’d never been able to quite capture the truly mischievous spark in her eyes, that teasing air she always wore when he painted her.

“ _I don’t know why you insist on this,”_ she’d said while he was working. “ _I’m sure there are plenty of other models out there with much prettier faces.”_

_“Why would I want ‘pretty’ when I have_ _‘_ _beautiful’ in front of me?”_ he’d asked cheekily, smiling when her cheeks flushed brilliantly.

He saw only one other person in the gallery when he’d walked in. He could only see the side of her head, her brown hair hung loose, hiding her face from him. She was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of his Sunshine, bent over a sketchbook.

Poe smiled, surreptitiously stealing a glance at her drawing from a distance. It was a fair representation of the necklace in the painting, but there was a great deal more detail in her ink drawing than there was in his original painting.

Startled, he glanced up at the painting to make sure that those details weren’t there, then back down at her. She’d looked up to study the painting once more and Poe felt the air knocked out of his lungs.

“ _Raisa?_ ” he breathed. He was still a good ten feet away from her so she didn’t hear him, but Poe could see her face now.

She looked different to how she used to. Her hair wasn’t curled in tight ringlets, and she wasn’t wearing the red lipstick that she’d worn before. She was wearing ripped jeans and a Harry Potter t-shirt. She had on chipped black nail polish and she was sitting on a gray jacket, swaying in time to whatever music she was listening to on her phone.

Poe fought against the memory of the last time he’d seen her. _No, it doesn’t matter now, she’s here, she’s safe now. Does she know?_

He sent a silent thanks to whatever deity had given him this moment to collect himself before he walked up to her.

She startled when he stepped into her line of sight, clearly a little lost in her work.

Poe glanced down at her sketchbook, appraising her the detail she’d been putting into the sketch of the necklace. “You’re quite good at that,” he remarked when she’d pulled her headphones out.

“Uhh, th-thank you,” she stuttered, standing up and holding her sketchbook to her chest.

“I’m Poe,” he said smiling at her, still a little shell shocked to see her standing there in front of him.

“Rey.”

_Rey._ Not dissimilar to her name last time, but still unique to this version of her. Poe smiled as he shook her hand, resisting the urge to pull her into a hug and hold on tight. _It’s been so long…_

“Well, Rey.” He was relieved that his voice was steady, not betraying the flood of emotions that threatened to crash over him. “I must say, you do strike me as familiar.” He gestured up at the painting, trying to gauge how much she remembered. He’d always been able to read her face pretty well.

“I guess so,” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she looked up at the painting, her cheeks darkening under his gaze. “I don’t know why, but it feels as if I’ve seen this painting before. But, when I asked the staff, they said that it had only just been released to the public. I think it was in a private collection before…”

“Yes, I believe it was in a private collection,” Poe said, his smile growing slightly at her intrigue.

Rey looked as if she was about to ask him something but was interrupted by the PA system warning that the museum would be closing soon. Poe couldn’t help staring at her as she glanced up to where the announcement was coming from. She still had those freckles all over her cheeks, the ones that he’d always told her were beautiful, even though she felt they made her look childish.

Casting around for any way to keep up the conversation with her, Poe said, “That necklace really does bring out her beauty, doesn't it?”

“I guess, but to me her attitude in the painting is the most striking.”

“How so?”

“Well, I’m not an art major or anything, but it seems very direct, her posture that is,” she said, fiddling with her bag and her sketchbook. She gestured to the Degas painting a few feet away. “Massassi’s contemporaries seemed, for the most part, to pose their subject in a much more relaxed way, almost demure.” She turned back to _Sunshine_. “She’s looking right at us. Makes her feel more present, more real, I guess.”

Poe couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. “Yes, she does feel very real doesn’t she?” She’d always been clever, even if she said this wasn’t her field of study.

Rey looked as if she wanted to say something else when a security guard came in and, almost rudely in Poe’s opinion, began to usher them out of the gallery.

They walked out together, Rey pulling on her jacket just before they reached the doors out to Michigan Ave.

They stood there, under the orange lights of the street. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” she said, fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“Yes, it was,” Poe said quietly, stealing another moment to just gaze at her face. _She couldn’t know, but was she starting to get the memories back?_

Her eyes were searching his face, watching as the city bustled around them.

“Here,” he finally managed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pen and an old business card. He flipped the card over and wrote his cell number on the back. “If you ever want to talk more about Massassi or ‘ _Sunshine_ ’.”

Rey smiled as she took the card. “Goodnight, Poe.”

“Goodnight,” he said, almost to himself as she strode down the steps.

Poe smiled, watching her cross the street. She was here, _here_. He didn’t have to keep searching for where she would be reborn. He could give her new memories and hopefully leave her with a happier life than last time.

* * *

When Poe got home, he went straight to his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out the old pocket knife from under a file. It was wrapped in a thick handkerchief. He unwound it gingerly, slowly exposing the polished wood and steel blade. He hadn’t gotten any new memories in years, but Poe couldn’t help wondering, maybe there was one more memory of her that he didn’t already have, one more smile he could see if only for a moment.

His finger traced the lines of the wooden handle and for a moment he found himself back in another memory.

 

_He ducked past the date merchant’s stall as he rode up to the Citadel of Damascus. He was on his way back from Homs, the capital of the_ _Homsi governorate_ _, with the report for the Sultan. In this lifetime his name was Khalil. He was one of the Sultan’s emissaries between the governorates, helping to deliver messages and decrees between the Sultan and his far reaching territories._

_He dismounted his horse when he reached the Citadel and walked in through the gates. He made his way past the main courtyards to where the rest of the guard’s horses were stabled. After leaving his horse with a stable boy, Khalil made his way to give his report to the Sultan._

_As he reached the throne room, Khalil heard the sound of loud voices conversing cheerfully through the door to the side chamber where the Sultan usually met with his advisers. The stable boy had told him that the Sultan was meeting with a delegation from Rome today._

**_That must be who is here,_ ** _Khalil thought to himself as he approached the side chamber and knocked on the doors._

_“Enter!” came the booming voice of the Sultan, a smile evident on his voice._

_Khalil opened the doors to see the Sultan sitting at the head of a long table, seated on one side was his Vizier and on the other was a man and a young woman._

_The man and woman were strangers to Khalil, but they had all turned to the door when he’d entered. Khalil’s breath caught in his chest as his eyes locked with the woman’s. She was a thing of beauty, her skin light with bright spots of pink on the apples of her cheeks, her eyes large and soft, the color somewhere between green and brown, her hair was braided into a complicated knot at the back of her head and cascaded down her back in a style that wasn’t commonly worn in Damascus._

_“Ah, Khalil,” the Sultan said, jerking Khalil’s attention away from the woman. “I see you have returned.”_

_“Yes, Your Majesty,” Khalil nodded, walking further into the room. “Please forgive the intrusion.”_

_“Not at all,” The Sultan waved away his apologies. “Come meet our guests. Signore Cassian Andor and his daughter. They’ve come all the way from Rome to see how we fare here in the Balad. Signore Andor, this is Khalil-ibin-Mahmood, Commander of the Northern forces and one of my best men,” The Sultan laughed._

_Khalil nodded politely at the visitors from across the table._

_The man, Signore Andor, smiled at him and turned to say something to his daughter in Italian. The woman nodded before turning to Khalil and speaking in fluent if slightly accented Arabic. “Hello, The Sultan speaks very highly of your valor and that of your men to my father.”_

_Khalil looked between the woman and her father, somewhat startled that she’d spoken. From what he’d heard of Italian women, they were not usually given such freedoms in the company of noblemen. “Do you speak for your father in all matters?” he asked, bluntly, unthinkingly. Immediately he cringed as a spark of indignation flashed across her eyes._

_“I’ll have you know that my father knows my value to him is irreplaceable, as more than a piece of property.” Her voice was carefully controlled, but laced with steel._

_Khalil felt himself backtracking quickly. “I meant no disrespect, Signorina. I-”_

_Signore Andor laughed loudly, saying something in to his daughter in rapid Italian before turning to Khalil. “My daughter is very smart, young man,” he said in Arabic, his accent thick and his words halting. “You would do well not to anger her.”_

_Khalil felt at a loss for words. The Sultan, however, seemed very delighted at the proceedings. “I have never seen Ibin-Mahmood knocked dumb so quickly.” He clapped his hands and turned to the woman. “My dear, you are a gift to every room you enter.” The Sultan laughed again before dismissing Khalil, telling him that he would collect his report later._

_“Yes, Your Majesty,” Khalil said, nodding his head respectfully before turning to leave the meeting hall. Just before he reached the doors, he cast one last look over his shoulder at Signorina Andor._

_She was already staring at him, her eyes had never left him as he made his way around the room. The Sultan, her father, and the Vizier had all gone back to their discussion from before, but her eyes stayed fixed on him, the spark of anger had gone out but she was studying him as if he were some puzzle she wanted to solve._

_There was something in him that made him want to apologize once more to this woman, to beg for her smile, possibly even her laughter._

_He shook himself from that line of thought, nodding again at the woman before closing the door behind himself._

 

Poe sighed as he was pulled from the vision. He settled back in his desk chair, the pocket knife still in his hand. He carefully wrapped it back up in the cloth, before tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket. He shook his head, remembering the next time he’d seen Rey in Damascus. Her name had been Rachele there, and she was just as headstrong as she had ever been. Her father had never had any reason to censure her or her mother, who had been even more brash and strong-willed than their daughter, and had even encouraged her to be as outspoken as she could be. He’d hired her tutors from the time she was very young so that, by the time she met Poe at age nineteen, she was already fluent in at least six languages, and acting as her father’s translator in most of his dealings.

He laughed, wondering what Rachele, Reyna, Raisa, _Rey_ was doing now. Turning out the light in his office he went to his bedroom, thinking of all the things he would tell her when she finally regained all the memories he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?
> 
> **Note:** I don't want anyone to think that Poe's comment to Rey in the flashback had anything to do with how Arab women are stereotyped in modern society. If you look at a lot of the stories and writers of the time, Muslim and Arab women were known for being very prolific, doing things like Founding the first University in the world (Fatima Al-Fihri in Morrocco in the 800s) to Leading armies (Aisha Bint Abu Bakr (peace be upon her) in the Battle of the Camel in the 600s) or even writing racy, downright erotic, prose (Walada Bint al-Mustaqfi in 1000s) the idea of women being submissive to men didn't appear as a wider cultural norm until well after the Crusades brought it from Europe. Poe is commenting on the fact that, according to the stereotypes of the time, European women were more demure. He was NOT saying that Rey should be quiet.
> 
>  
> 
> Also if you have any requests on chapters or scenes you want from Poe's POV please let me know. Or if you want any more details from their past lives as seen through Poe's eyes lmk ;D
> 
> -Jumana
> 
> **EDIT** : Khalil means "Intimate/close friend", if anyone was wondering. I couldn't find a name for Poe in Arabic that started with a P because Arabic as a language doesn't have the letter P. So yea.... Also "Ibin/Bin-Mahmood means "Son of Mahmood" which is how family names are set up in the Middle East.
> 
> Oh and "The Balad" that the Sultan refers to means "The Homeland", or it could also be used as "Bilad Ash-Sham" which is the Arabic name for the Levant. "Balad/Bilad" means "country."


	2. Revealing History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay,
> 
> HOLY SHIT THAT TRAILER DLSKFJALKSDHFAKDSLHFAKLDSJHFKLAJSHFLAKSDHFLKASDHFLKAS
> 
>  
> 
> Now that that's out of the way.... 
> 
> Thank you so much to [BatuuPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatuuPrincess/pseuds/BatuuPrincess) for beta reading this for me. I got back from SWCC last night and my brain just was an exhausted pile of mush. Thanks for all the help<3<3
> 
> Small note about chapter 1: I changed Poe's name in the flashback from "Nuh" to "Khalil" cuz i just kept re reading it and it just began to sound like "Nuh-uh" which is not even remotely how it is pronounced, but Idk how else to spell it in english that would get the pronunciation across, there is no letter for the "ح" sound in english. so i changed it to Khalil which means "Close/dear friend"
> 
>  
> 
> anyways... enjoy <3

Poe threw himself into his work over the next few days, trying to distract himself from thoughts of Rey. Over the years he had found different odd jobs, never staying anywhere too long so as not to draw too much attention to his odd habits. His most recent job was in print media. Though he knew it was a dying market, the Chicago Tribune was still a well-known paper and being on the front of an investigative story held some thrill to him. 

Poe tapped absently on the side of his laptop as he contemplated the open document on his screen. He was  _ supposed  _ to be writing and editing a piece on a local activism movement, but his mind kept drifting to  _ her _ . 

It wasn’t surprising. No matter what happened, every lifetime, whether or not he knew about their history when they met, he could never bully his mind into focusing on anything else. He was annoyed with himself for not asking for her number. 

_ No,  _ he thought.  _ Let her reach out. You don’t want to rush her. _

He sighed. Had it always been this complicated before? Dragging his hands through his hair, Poe stood and undocked the laptop from his workstation. If he wasn’t going to get anything done here, he might as well get some food while staring down grammatical errors and replaying the same interviews for the fiftieth time.

He slid his jacket on and called a goodbye to Kare as he walked to the elevator. Just as the bell dinged, Poe felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

**Hi, Poe. It’s Rey from the museum. I was wondering if you’d want to get coffee sometime. I would love to chat more about Massassi.**

Poe smiled as he stepped onto the elevator. 

**I would love to. Does tomorrow at 7 work?**

**Sounds good. Kanata’s in Lincoln Park?**

Poe was a little surprised to read the name  _ Kanata _ , but his smile grew even wider. Of course Poe had known that Maz was in town. She was part of the reason that he moved here after all. He wanted to pick her brain about France, but Maz was every bit as cryptic as ever. Maz had been around forever, she was probably the oldest soul there was, but even after all these years she was still Maz, right down to her mysteries and enigmatic comments. 

**Perfect,** Poe sent back quickly, saving her number before walking out into the brisk October evening. 

As he walked away from the bustle of Michigan Ave to the L station a few blocks away, he mused to himself. Did Rey’s suggestion of Maz’s mean her memories were coming back? Poe thought back, yet again, to their meeting at the Art Institute. She seemed startled by him, but she understood the significance of the painting and the necklace. Or at least she was starting to. Poe continued to wonder at their situation as he exited the train and walked towards the cafe around the corner from his apartment. He ordered a latte and sat down. Poe smiled as he edited his piece, his plans providing him plenty of motivation to finish early. 

* * *

Poe’s mind didn’t quiet all day. He kept glancing at the clock in the corner of his screen as he worked. When five o’clock finally came around, he sprung up and stuffed his laptop back into his bag. He made his way home, almost jogging from the L station as he went. Hoping to calm his nerves, he deposited his bag on the sofa before hurrying to take a shower. He scolded himself as he stood under the hot water. This was Rey, he’d done this dozens of times, he shouldn’t be so nervous to meet with her. 

_ But that’s the thing, isn’t it? _ a little voice in the back of his mind said.  _ You haven’t done  _ **_this_ ** _ before, not since…. _

“Shut up,” Poe muttered to himself, digging his knuckles into his eyes until spots danced behind his eyelids. He turned off the shower and got out. 

He spent more time than he should have debating his outfit, before settling on a comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When she got her older memories back, Rey would know everything about him that he knew about her. He couldn’t make a bigger fool of himself now than he had when he’d broken his nose walking headlong into a tree because he’d been staring at her in Boston, or the time he had embarrassed himself trying to speak Italian in Syria and ended up insulting her father really,  _ really _ badly to his face, or any time Ezra and Sabine had talked him into one of their crazy schemes to try to get her to notice him in France. Poe laughed at himself as he put his shoes on. Just as he was walking to the door, he paused. He went back into his office and pulled out his knife.  _ For luck, _ he thought as he locked his front door behind him.

He still had almost an hour before he was supposed to meet Rey, but staying here was just making him antsy. 

It was a short train trip to Lincoln Park. He meandered aimlessly around the university as he waited for seven o’clock to come. It was unseasonably warm that day, the sun was out and there were students milling about on the quad as he sat on an empty bench to watch. It was the middle of the quarter, most of them would be studying or enjoying themselves. Poe smiled at the group of three tossing a frisbee back and forth between them, reminded strongly of Ezra and Sabine. 

He checked his watch and stood from the bench, his hands digging into the pockets of his jacket. He meandered down the street to Maz’s, forcing himself to walk slowly, his eyes not focused on anything. 

He looked up when he reached the door to Maz’s shop. Looking around, he saw that the cafe was about half full. His breath caught again when he saw Rey standing at the cashier. He shook his head quickly and walked up to her. 

“Allow me,” he said by way of greeting when he saw her reaching into her bag for her wallet. 

She jumped and whirled around at the sound of his voice, a lock of hair falling into her face. Smiling at her, Poe bit back the urge to reach forward and tuck that strand back before adding his drink order to hers. 

“Hi,” she said, her voice a little breathy. 

“Hello.” Poe cast a quick look around and saw an empty booth near the back. Perfect. 

Rey took her seat opposite him. Poe saw her fidgeting, tucking the strand of hair back and twisting her fingers together. He smiled, her nervous habits never changed throughout their lives.

“So,” Poe prompted, trying to ease her nerves when she didn’t seem ready to talk. “You said you wanted to talk more about Massassi…”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “I just.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “I’ve been looking online for more about him or the paintings but I couldn’t find much....” Her words petered off, her gaze questioning as she finally raised her eyes to his. 

“Well,” Poe started, smiling to himself. “Massassi was a very private man, I’m not surprised you didn’t find much.”  _ I would be more surprised if you had, if you had remembered me, _ a voice in the back of his mind whispered. “Besides, Massassi was a pseudonym.”

Rey looked intrigued by this new notion, but just at that moment a familiar voice interrupted them. “I have one chai and one black coffee.”

Poe sighed silently as he turned to see Maz setting their drinks in front of them. “Thanks, Maz.” 

“Anytime,” she said, setting her tray down on the table. “How’s my boyfriend doing?” she asked, pinching his cheek like she used to do in Boston. 

Poe rolled his eyes at her. He couldn’t help it. “Last I heard, Chewie was doing just fine.” It wasn’t a total lie, but truthfully, Poe hadn’t heard from Chewy in years. He could be anywhere now.

“Good.” Maz turned from him to Rey, recognition lighting up behind her thick-framed glasses. “I see you’ve made a friend.” 

“This is Rey,” Poe said quickly, gesturing to Rey. “Rey, this is Maz, she owns this place.”

“Oh, hi.”

Maz reached out for Rey’s hand, but didn’t shake it. “You have the eyes of a woman I once knew,” Maz said, her gaze transfixed on Rey.

Poe saw Rey’s brow scrunch up and, even though he knew she was confused, he couldn’t help feeling a strong sense of nostalgia. She glanced up at Poe, a question in her eyes. 

“Maz,” he said, quiet but firm. Rey didn’t know about their history yet. He didn’t know what Maz would say next, if she would scare Rey. Poe hated walking on eggshells around her, but until he knew how much she knew, he couldn’t just let Maz blurt it out accidentally. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to it then.” With that, Maz picked up her tray and meandered back through the tables to the counter. 

“Sorry about that,” Poe said, stirring creamer into his coffee, his eyes fixed on the coffee in front of him.

“She’s a friend, I take it,” Rey asked over the lip of her mug. 

“Yeah.” _ If only you remembered, you would have made some joke about the cat Maz used to own who didn’t like anyone other than you and Maz, or the garden you helped her tend to when her arthritis was acting up.  _

“Umm.” Rey’s voice drew Poe’s eyes up to hers again. “You said something about a pen-name?” 

“Yes.” Poe looked at her face, watching her reaction. He’d been thinking about this for the last few days. He knew what he wanted to say, he’d had plenty of time to figure that out. But now, now that he was here, sitting feet away from her, all those pretty speeches evaporated. He took a deep breath. He would go with something simple. A name. A name that wouldn’t mean anything to her if she didn’t already know what was happening, or at least some of what was happening. “His name was Peter Velazquez.”

Rey’s face went pale. Poe watched as her jaw clenched and unclenched, working through whatever was going through her mind. 

When she didn’t speak for a full minute Poe began to get worried. “Rey?” he prompted softly. “Are you alright?” 

Poe watched her swallow before speaking. “That’s not his name,” she said quietly. “How do you know that name?” 

Poe blinked. She knew who Peter was? She remembered Boston? She didn’t remember Maz, but that wasn’t an issue. Other memories would resurface soon enough, but she knew his name then, that was a start. He sighed before answering her. “The same way you know the name Raisa Bisset.” 

Poe saw another jolt pass through Rey at the sound of her own name, her name from Marseilles. Her mouth opening and closing as she tried to say something. 

“Rey,” he prompted again when she didn’t speak.

“I’m sorry.” Quick as a flash, she’d stood up, her hand wrapped around her purse strap, and bolted. 

“Wait!” he called after her, but she didn’t stop, sprinting for the door and outside. “Shit,” he muttered to himself as he stood and jogged after her. She was a block ahead of him already. He followed her down the sidewalk, jogging to keep up with her panicked strides. Three blocks later he saw her turn into a deserted park and collapse onto a swing. 

She was breathing hard when he caught up to her. When he was about ten feet away, she looked up, her eyes wild with panic and confusion. Poe wanted nothing more than to take that away, to reassure her in some way. 

_ How can you do that when you know what happened last time? _ that annoying little voice in the back of his mind asked. He raised a hand to her, trying to console her. 

“Who are you?” she whispered after many agonizing seconds. “How do you know about that?” 

Keeping his movements slow and calm, Poe lowered his hand and took the swing next to hers. “It’s quite a long story,” he said ruefully. 

“I’ve got time.” 

Poe couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him. “You’re as stubborn as ever,” he said, more to himself than to her. He didn’t know yet what she would remember, if she would remember anything new after this conversation, or if it would take some time.  _ Come on, Dameron, it’s Rey, talk to Rey.  _ He took a steadying breath. “What do you know about reincarnation?” he asked, training his eyes on her again.

“You mean like Hinduism?” she asked, that wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows again.

“Not quite.” Poe cast around for the best way to describe it. “You and I are what they call ‘Old Souls.’”

“Old Souls?”

Poe nodded slowly. “People who come back and live again with memories of the last time.”

“That’s not possible.” Rey’s voice was stern, almost disapproving. Clearly she thought he was being ridiculous.

Poe smiled bitterly. “Sometimes I wish it wasn’t, but it is.”

Rey looked at her hands contemplatively “Are there others?”

“I’ve met a few. Maz is one. We first met her in Boston.”

“And the painting?”

“I made it,” Poe said softly, watching her for new signs of distress. “I was using the stage name Massassi. Your name then was Raisa.”

He saw her jaw clench at the name. She clearly understood some of what he was saying, even if she didn’t know all the details yet. “I don’t - I can’t -.” Her voice held a note of panic that Poe could recognize. 

“It’s okay, I know it’s a lot to take in.” He didn’t want to push her anymore. 

_ How had she done this so many times before? _ He thought to himself. 

He’d never been good at explaining this. Once or twice, when he’d been the one to get the memories first, he’d bungled it up and she’d stopped talking to him for a week.

Rey’s eyes were a little watery as she studied him. “But how do you know all of this?”

“That is a longer story for another time, I’m afraid.” He took a deep breath against the influx of memories. Suddenly, he felt something touch the back of his hand where he held onto the chain of the swing. He glanced up to see Rey’s fingers brushing the back of his hand. Looking up into her eyes, he smiled as he entwined his hand with hers. He couldn’t look away, trapped by their greenish brown color. He watched her in the fading light of the day.

Suddenly a burst of music sounded from Rey’s purse, making her jump. She dug it out. 

“You can answer that,” Poe said, sitting up straighter. 

“It’s just my friend Rose,” Rey said, silencing and pocketing the phone quickly. Just then, a breeze blew through the park, rattling the last of the dried up leaves on the trees around them and causing Rey to shiver. 

Without hesitation, Poe stood up and tugged off his jacket. “Here,” he said, wrapping it around her shoulders.

“Thank you.” Poe smiled as she slid her arms into the jacket and they fell back into a comfortable silence. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

Poe watched as Rey chewed on her lip, clearly debating her question. “Did you send me the necklace?”

Poe barked out a laugh. “No, Sunshine, I didn’t.”

“But then how- how did it come to me in the mail?”

“The necklace from the painting?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

Rey nodded.

“Every time we come back, every time we’re reborn, someone - I’m not sure who - sends us something from our past lives to help jog our memories. You got the necklace I gave you for our first anniversary in Marseilles.” Poe smiled remembering the small mirror she’d gotten last time or the hair clip she’d received the time before that. “I got this.” He pulled out the pocket knife, showing her the worn handle.

Rey’s eyes were fixed on the knife. “But how did they know where....”

Poe shrugged. Honestly even after all these years, he still didn’t have those answers. “I guess the powers that be have a forwarding address or something. I’m not actually sure.”

Rey gaze shifted to his face. “What am I to you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“You are Rey,” he said simply. “You have always been there at some point during my life, and you are someone I lo-care for very much.” He’d almost said too much, almost pushed the bounds of their new relationship further than she would be comfortable with. 

“You said we were married?” she asked. 

Poe smiled. Nothing got past her. “Yes, in some lifetimes we were married.”  _ Like our last life. _ “In some we were the best of friends,” he said, trying not to frighten her off, but unable to hold it in. “In every lifetime, you were someone special to me.”

Rey’s fingers were playing with her hair again. She stood suddenly. “I- um- I think I should go home,” she stuttered, offering the jacket back to him. He stood and took it from her gently. “I need to- um- I need to-” 

Poe nodded. “I understand. At least let me call you a cab.” 

“Oh, I couldn’t-” she protested. 

“I insist,” Poe said, giving her his arm, the way he had done both countless times before and never before. They walked arm in arm down the street. 

Poe managed to flag down a cab fairly quickly, opening the door for her. He spoke then, wanting to make sure she understood what his intentions had been tonight. 

“Please, Rey, take as much time as you need to process this. You have my number if you have any questions or if you just want to talk.”

Rey nodded as she got into the car and let him close the door behind her, Poe sliding the driver a fifty before stepping back.

Poe could see her turn around in the back seat to look at him through the rear window of the car. He couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face as the cab disappeared into the early evening traffic. 

He turned and began walking back to the train station, the smile stuck to his face. He’d talked to Rey, he’d explained what had happened to her. Sure there was still a lot of work to do to help her remember, and there were things that Poe really and truly wanted her to forget. But the fact of the matter was, she did remember him, and she had gotten a token. She would remember everything else soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?


	3. Midnight Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Big Thank you to [BatuuPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatuuPrincess/pseuds/BatuuPrincess) for beta reading for me and letting me bounce ideas off of her yesterday about the next chapter of Painted History (Gonna be posting that later, but i need to catch up on some stuff in this story before I do that) 
> 
> Anyways, Hope you all like this short little update. The next one should probably be longer... let me know if there are any specific scenes from PH that you want me to include in this 
> 
> Jumana

_Poe strolled down the street, laughing along with Raisa as she swung their hands between them._

_They had just left the restaurant in the Old Port and were now walking along La Corniche, the briny air wafting up to them over the balcony wall from the sea twenty feet below._

_Poe laughed as he tugged on Raisa’s hand, spinning her into his chest as if they were dancing._

_Raisa giggled, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders._

_“What would I ever do without that smile?” Poe asked, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek, his thumb pressed against the corner of her red painted mouth._

_Raisa turned her head slightly and pressed a kiss to the pad of his thumb. “You are such a romantic,” she teased, pulling out of his grip to hold both of his hands in hers and leaning back. “Always waxing poetic about something or other.”_

_“I can’t help it, mon étoile,” Poe said. “All my love is for you. How can I just sit here and not proclaim it to the world?”_

_Raisa rolled her eyes, but, after glancing around to ensure they were truly alone, allowed him to tug her in close and press a kiss against her grinning mouth, his hands wrapping around her waist._

_“Happy second anniversary, ma belle,” Poe whispered into her ear._

_“I love you,” she said, just as softly. Then she leaned back and giggled again. Reaching into her pocketbook, she pulled out her handkerchief. “I suppose I should not have worn red,” she said, smiling as she wiped at his mouth, the handkerchief coming away stained with lipstick._

_Poe laughed and ducked past her hand to press another kiss to her lips. “I do not care,” he whispered, before kissing her cheek and up to her ear and down her neck, leaving light lipstick smears in his wake._

_“Poe!” she squealed, laughing as she swatted his shoulder, before tugging him up by the hair to kiss her lips again and knocking his hat off in the process._

_Raisa broke off the kiss as a car drove past them, blushing profusely under the orange light of the sunset and hiding her face in his shoulder for a moment. Pulling away from him, she dug out her powder compact from her pocketbook to fix her makeup. She turned to Poe. “You are incorrigible.”_

_Poe laughed, picking up his hat and wiping away the last of her lipstick from his mouth. They began to walk down the path again, Raisa’s hand tucked into his elbow. They were still a long way from the town when the light from the sun disappeared completely._

_Raisa shivered, and Poe suggested they should start walking back._

_As they turned, Poe heard a rustle behind them, the sound of heavy footsteps on gravel. Without warning, a blinding pain burst along the back of his head and he fell forward._

_“Poe!” Raisa screamed as the world around Poe turned to black…_

 

Poe jolted awake in bed, his heart racing, a trickle of cold sweat running down his back.

Throwing the sheets off of himself, he set his feet on the floor.

 _It’s 2018,_ he told himself, running a hand through his hair. _It’s 2018 and you’re both fine. You’re in Chicago, not Marseilles. That was 1924, it’s 2018._

He sucked in another deep breath.

His phone buzzed.

Poe jumped and looked at the clock, already reaching for the phone. 3 a.m.?

“Hello?” he asked, then moved his mouth away from the receiver to clear his throat.

“You broke my ankle,” a familiar voice said.

“Rey?” He asked pulling the phone away from his ear to look at the caller ID, his mind still on France. _She never broke her ankle in Marseilles, did she?_

“Yes.” She sounded a little out of breath. “It was my birthday and we were on a rooftop and—”

“Yes, I remember,” Poe said quickly, laughing as he recalled his disastrous idea to go onto the roof of the courthouse in Boston on her birthday, all to save a few coins so they could buy candy later. “So you put on the necklace again?” he asked, already guessing the answer.

“No, I just held it for a few minutes.”

Poe nodded. He wondered why she was awake now, trying on the necklace, but he supposed her mind was probably as busy as his had been lately. “How much did you see?”

“I—” she broke off, considering. “It ended when Maz was setting my leg.”

Poe lay back on the mattress, his hand unconsciously going to the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. “I wish you hadn’t seen that. It was bad enough the first time around.” He rubbed the back of his head, vividly recalling the blow he’d taken at the end of his own vision.

“How was it so clear?” Rey asked, and Poe grimaced at the idea of her hurting again. “Last time I put it on, I fell out of the memory so much faster.”

“Was someone there with you last time?” Poe guessed. “Could be because they tried to pull you out before the end of the vision.”

“Mhm,” Rey mumbled. “I guess I did freak Rose out last time.”

“Yeah,” Poe said with a small smile. It wasn’t the best of visions she could have had, but it certainly wasn’t the worst. “It’s not exactly something normal to watch.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, Poe taking comfort from the fact that she was there, that she was safe now.

“Poe?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Yes?”

“I—” She broke off, starting again. “What was my father like?” she whispered into the phone.

“In Boston?” Poe asked, his mind had wandered back to France.

“Mhm.”

Poe smiled. He wasn’t sure what prompted the question, but he could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “He was a good man.” Poe chuckled a little as he remembered all the times he’d gotten into trouble with Reyna’s father, all the stupid things he had done to try to impress her. “He was a printer, he published one of the newspapers in Boston. You would always demand to know what he was printing when he worked when you were little, always reading anything new he gave you. You helped him sometimes when you were older.” 

“Did— Did he like me?”

The question seemed to come from nowhere, but Poe could hear the weight behind it. “He loved you so much, Sunshine. He brought you to Boston because he thought that you both could have a better life than the one he could provide in London.”

Poe could hear shuffling on the other end of the line. “Why did the necklace show me that vision?” she asked after a long pause.

Poe shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know why it shows what it does when it does.”

“Sorry for waking you up,” Rey whispered.

Poe smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Sunshine. I’ll always answer.” _And I will always want to talk to you, and treasure those moments I can._

“Thank you.”

There was silence again as Poe waited for her to speak, wanting to hear her voice. When the silence continued, Poe cast around for something else to say. “So, how was your day?”

“Well, nothing quite as dramatic as a broken ankle, thankfully,” Rey said.

“If it helps, I went to get you three caramel apples the next day.” Poe laughed, remembering how she’d eaten one and a half before dramatically pretending to faint back onto the bed she was confined to, and leaving him to finish the rest of them.

Rey’s bright laughter rang through the phone. “Thank you,” she said, before continuing her earlier train of thought. “I just went to class, pretty normal day.”

“What are you studying?” Poe asked, eager to learn more about this version of Rey.

It didn’t take much coaxing to get Rey to open up about her classes, Poe interjecting every now and then with questions. “I just took a poli-sci class as an elective five years ago and here I am, halfway through a master’s,” Rey said, laughing.

Poe couldn’t hide the pride in his voice. He knew it was unnecessary, she didn’t need him to be proud of her accomplishments, but he couldn’t help it. He loved that she was doing something she loved. “Well, you are gonna do something great with that, I’m sure.”

“You getting visions of the future, too?” Rey asked, a note of shyness in her voice now that hadn’t been there before.

“Nah, I just know that you always do amazing things when you put your mind to it.”

Rey suddenly yawned. “S’cuse me,” she said.

Poe immediately felt guilty for keeping her up this late. “It’s late, you should probably sleep,” Poe said, fondly.

“I should…” she agreed, but didn’t hang up. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“Anytime.”

“Mmmm.” She paused. “Goodnight.”

“Sweet dreams, Sunshine.”

Poe held the phone for another moment before he heard the beep.

Dropping it onto the bed beside him, he looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He was glad that Rey had called. Talking to her again after that vision had calmed his nerves, had knocked him out of his spiraling thoughts of what happened after the vision before he got too lost in the memory. Even if she hadn’t known what he needed, she still helped.

Poe sat up and looked towards the window, where the barest peaks of sunlight were straining past the horizon. Poe knew he wasn’t going to sleep now.

Getting out of bed, he tugged a sweater over his bare chest and walked downstairs to start a pot of coffee, feeling a swell of hope he hadn’t expected bubbling up in his chest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think?  
> \- Jumana


End file.
